


Grey

by Jinx72



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativitwins, Gen, Post-Putting Ourselves First, Remus Tries To Be A Good Brother, Roman Has A Moral Crisis, Self-Harm, Swearing, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: This is the first fic I’m writing after The New Episode dropped.Remus tries to comfort Roman through his moral breakdown, and ends up fighting him to try and vent his frustration.crossposted from tumblr bc the formatting here actually obeys me and makes sense.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 26
Kudos: 239





	Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I got a lot of feelings about the new episode. And i'm sad. Have a fic.

Remus was trekking through the pouring rain, mud staining his boots and pants all the way up the knee, make up running, hair plastered to his scalp, and his usually smiling face set as grim as the marble of a tombstone.   
When Patton had _(Patton had!)_ sought him out after Thomas finished his newest episode, Remus had fallen out of his seat. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the father figment since they last clashed on screen. But Patton had knocked, Remus had called that _“it’s open, J!”_  
And Patton had stepped inside, shame in his eyes and his face pale. And Patton had told him what had gone down. And what conclusion had been reached. And what Janus had done. And what Janus had said. To Roman. And that they couldn’t find Roman anywhere.

“Dec- uh, _Janus,”_ Patton started, correcting himself with a hasty smile, “tells me he wants to apologise… but we just can’t find him. It’s like he disappeared.”   
Remus shook his head.   
“I know where he’ll’ve gone,” he said. “I’ll find him.”

So here he was, not even flinching as thunder cracked overhead. Or even as it grew more frequent. He ploughed onwards, trying to jump over a muddy, rain-swollen river and missing. Instead, he let himself float, and redirected it to take him where he wanted to go.

The river spat him out at the foot of a hill, and Remus picked himself up to look up at the old castle that stood there still. It’d belonged to the side that had owned the title of Creativity before they had. And…  
Yes, he could hear the sounds of ringing metal from here.

Remus was running now, and he skidded into the ancient training grounds, sliding to a halt as the mud on his boots meddled with his traction.  
Roman was there, sword in hand, angry tears on his face as he hacked away at the freshly replaced training dummies, sending straw and sackcloth everywhere. At the sound of Remus’ footsteps, Roman whirled around, sword raised and a snarl on his face.  
It was clear Roman faltered when he saw who it was.

“What do you want?” he snapped, trying to hide his hesitation, his anger, his pain.   
Remus stared for a second.  
“Holy shit,” he breathed, throwing Roman off again. “They really fucked you up, huh?”  
Roman’s grip tightened on his sword.  
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear it from you!”  
Remus entered the room properly.  
“Stay away!” Roman continued, backing away. “I… I…!”  
He grabbed a fistful of his own hair and yanked hard.

The sound of slithering metal drew Roman’s attention away from himself, and his head snapped up to see Remus by the old weapon rack, drawing a sword he hadn’t touched in years. Remus hefted it, testing its weight. He took a couple test swipes; broad slashing strokes.  
“Heh,” he laughed bitterly. “Still feels like it’s made for me.”  
Then he turned and made his way over to Roman, who was beginning to shake.  
“What do you want?” the prince whispered hoarsely.  
“I want you to fight me,” Remus said plainly, taking up the correct stance and lifting his sword. “I saw you with those dummies. En garde, my good bitch.”

Something shifted across Roman’s face, a number of dark things, sad things, but it settled on a surprisingly well-hidden fear.  
“I’ll cut you to ribbons,” he said.  
“Prove it,” Remus goaded.   
“Remus,” Roman said, and his tone was shifting to angry.   
“What?” Remus laughed. “Afraid? Upset? Angry?”  
“Yes!” Roman snapped, before turning away and burying his hand in his hair again, sword falling to his side.   
“Don’t,” Remus called. “Just… _ugh.”_  
He closed the distance, raising his sword over his head in a two-handed blow – one that was easy to block – and screaming a battlecry as he closed in (to clue Roman in to his attentions), and Roman stumbled back with a cry of his own, raising his sword in time to catch the blow.

They stared at each other through the shower of sparks as their swords met.   
“What the fuck?!” Roman shouted. “Remus, you could’ve killed me!”  
“Oh?” Remus smiled, despite how he actually felt right now. “You’re that rusty?”  
“Shut up!” Roman snapped again, and he shoved Remus back with enough force to send him tumbling.  
“There we go!” Remus hooted, already back on his feet.   
“It’s not a game!” Roman insisted, anger twisting his features.   
Remus only grinned back.  
Something dark and angry and deeply upset sparked in Roman’s eyes. And that was the only clue Remus got before his brother launched himself towards the duke with lightning fast speed and an angry scream.

Remus, to pat himself on the back, was doing _very_ well for someone who hadn’t touched a sword in ten years. He had stopped using them when Roman had latched onto them as a personality trait, despite Remus’ logo, and he couldn’t bring himself to use one. But this… this was different.   
And it felt surprisingly natural, too, blocking Roman’s blows. Though he was on the defensive the whole time – he had to try and not get stabbed or broken ribs or anything, because Roman’s anger was only building, building back to the fervour Remus had witnessed when he had crashed the party. They traded blows, back and forth, Remus picking up a rhythm, but still barely keeping up with Roman’s angry slashes and blows.  
“Why are you here?” Roman snarled through gritted teeth as they locked blades, pushing hard, trying to knock the other off their feet, faces close through the deadly frame of swords.  
“I’m here,” Remus replied, dancing backwards as soon as he felt himself losing the grapple, “to check on you.”  
“You’re doing a shitty job,” Roman snapped, whirling around in a mighty blow that Remus only just managed to avoid. “Most people don’t attack each other in greeting.”  
“We’re not most people,” Remus singsonged, and blinked at the spark of _something_ in Roman’s eyes. Roman sagged, and went limp, sword tip scraping across the stone floor as he trudged away. Remus’ performance-smile dropped, and he lowered his own weapon.  
“Roman?”  
Roman didn’t reply, only slowly made his way over to the training dummies again, staring at the floor. Remus hesitantly approached, reaching a hand out to touch his brother’s shoulder.

With a sudden, frustrated, broken scream, Roman lashed out, lurching forward and slicing the heads off the dummies in one fell swoop. But it felt clear that he wasn’t satisfied, but there was only so much he could do with a sword.  
“Here,” Remus said, summoning his morning star and offering it in a heartbeat. Roman turned, eyes widening, face twisting at the sight of it, at the offer, before he snorted bitterly.  
“Sure,” he muttered. “Let’s double down on it, why not?”   
And he dropped his sword (he _dropped_ his _sword?)_ with a careless clatter and seized Remus’ weapon with both hands, before Remus stepped back and watched his brother destroy what was left of his straw-stuffed foes.

By the time they were flour and mulch, Roman turned back with a heaving chest, and Remus winced at the tears on Roman’s face.  
“It’s no good,” Roman croaked, voice hoarse from all his screaming. “It’s just no good, is it?”  
“What is?”  
 _“Me.”_

Roman fell to his knees, dropping Remus’ morning star as well, and buried his hands in his hair, making the most broken sound Remus had ever heard. Remus was on his knees too before he knew it, reaching out for Roman – to hug him, but Roman flinched back with a sharp gasp.  
“Everything’s broken!” he howled. “Patton was wrong, and Deceit was right! And every step I take, I do the wrong thing! I don’t trust Virgil, I’ve done wrong. I do trust Deceit, I’ve done wrong. I _don’t_ trust Deceit and now I’m wrong again! I don’t _understand!_ I’ve done everything I’ve been told! Why am I still wrong? After everything, I’m worse than _you!”_

He collapsed in on himself, tearing at his hair and openly sobbing. Remus flinched back, before quickly moving swords out of the way before Roman accidententally hurt himself, and then gently prying Roman’s hands away from his scalp so he could stop on-purpose hurting himself.  
“There is no way you can be worse than me,” he said plainly, and Roman’s breath hitched.  
“I…” Roman just shook his head.  
“Patton told me what happened,” Remus said.  
“ _Patton_ told you?” Roman echoed incredulously.  
“I’m just as surprised as you,” Remus shrugged. “Look… Thomas is an evolving individual. At one point, you were right not to trust Virgil. But it changed. And then you were right to trust Janus, and then you weren’t. Things shift under you and you don’t realise you’re in the wrong until you’re up to your knees and unable to pull yourself out.”  
Roman went to tug at his hair again, but Remus hadn’t let go of his wrists yet, so he could only stare blankly into the space between them instead.   
“You’ll never be as bad as me,” Remus restated. “But… look, nothing’s simple. Not everything’s fun. Sometimes, it hits you like a ton of bricks.”  
“It used to be so easy,” Roman whispered. “And I used to _know_ Patton was right, because that was his job. He… it was so scary. But he asked me to be on his side, so I was. Because I needed to make it right. And I was even on the right side this time, and I was still wrong!”  
Roman doubled over with a shuddering breath.  
“And if Patton’s wrong, about Thomas, and about Deceit,” he continued. “Then... what if he’s wrong about me?”  
“What do you mean?” Remus prompted, quiet and subdued.  
“I’m supposed to be _good,”_ Roman panted. “Patton has always told me I’m _good._ But he said today that we were wrong to call Deceit _evil,_ that he was _wrong._ And if he’s wrong about Deceit being _evil,_ and Deceit knows I’m no better than _you,_ then how could I ever be good? Thomas lied to my face, Remus, he told me I was his hero, and I looked at Deceit and Deceit confirmed he was lying! I…”  
He cut himself off with the most broken-sounding keening cry yet, and Remus couldn’t _bear_ it anymore.

He pulled Roman close, wrapping his arms around him and keeping him there.  
“Jan-… Deceit wasn’t lying,” Remus told him, noting how Roman hadn’t accepted Janus’ name yet and he wasn’t going to force the issue. “He was trying to comfort you.”  
“All he’s _ever done_ is lie to me!” Roman retorted, trying to pull away, but Remus’ grip was like iron. “I’m not convinced he can do anything else!”  
“He can,” Remus snapped, defensive for his friend, before trying to tone it back. “…From someone who’s lived with the fucker for years, let me tell you that he does not lie all the time. Only when he deems it necessary.”  
“And he found it necessary to manipulate me,” Roman hissed, but it was a limp argument, and Roman was leaning into the embrace rather than fighting it now. “He used me to try and convince Thomas to lie. He used me to try and make Thomas go to the callback. And just when I thought I’d finally caught onto his tricks, he…”  
Roman ran out of words, burying his face in Remus’ shoulder and trying not to scream.  
“You can let it out,” Remus said. “It doesn’t pay to keep it in.”

What was left of the glass in the old castle shattered from the force of the scream Roman let out.

By the time Roman’s lungs were finally empty, and he sagged back against his brother in defeat, Remus just hugged him again.  
“He said…” Roman said, through genuine, frustrated tears, “He said it was good I had no moustache, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tell who was the evil twin.”  
Remus was used to being called the ‘evil’ one by now, but hearing it in his own friend’s words… hurt, a little, he wasn’t going to lie.   
And despite everything, he knew Roman couldn’t handle being compared to him.  
It was almost enough to make Remus let go of him. To leave Roman to wallow if he was just going to insult him like this.  
But that was unfair.  
So he just hugged him tighter.  
Roman curled up in his arms.   
“I can’t take it,” he whispered, eyes shining with tears that were just too exhausting to shed. “I’m so… I just…”  
Remus listened to the rain outside die down.  
“Do you want to go back?” he asked.  
Roman paled, and shook his head.  
“Let’s find a place to get you cleaned up,” Remus offered, picking up Roman rather than having his brother bother with standing, and shifted it into a piggyback. “You’re _covered_ in splinters.”

Roman went to argue, but Remus marched them out of the training area and through the castle, up to the old bedroom that used to almost belong to them.  
“You’re doing fine,” he whispered as he helped Roman pull out splinters.  
“You’re better than you realise,” he added when he returned with some pyjamas he scrounged up and some tea he’d conjured.  
“You’re not evil,” he told him as he tucked Roman into bed. “You’re doing fine.”  
Roman’s lip was wobbling.  
“How can I call you evil?” he gasped for air. “When you are the one who’s been the kindest to me this whole week?”  
Remus didn’t reply for a moment, tucking the blankets up to Roman’s chin.  
“I’m having an evil hiatus,” he said. “I’ll be back on my bullshit tomorrow. We can fight again, properly. I’ll make you some new dragons to slay, if you want.”  
Roman stared at him.  
“I’ll be whatever I please,” Remus shrugged. “And I am generally happy with being Thomas’ villain. But today, I’m your brother. Tomorrow, I’ll be your nemesis, if that’s what you need.”  
“You…”  
“I’m evil, don’t you worry,” Remus winked, though his heart ached as he said this, almost like he was sealing his fate.   
“You’re…” Roman cut himself off with a wide yawn.  
“Think about it tomorrow,” Remus advised, leaning over and blowing out the candle on Roman’s bedside table. “Sleep for now. You’re doing fine.”  
Roman went to argue, but his eyelids were already drooping. Remus stood, grimacing at the damp patch his still-wet clothes had left on Roman’s sheets. But he smiled at his brother.  
“Sleep,” he said again as he crossed the room, pausing in the doorway. “It’ll make more sense in the morning. I’m open to talking. Virgil might be too. Logan, too. And… well. They’ll talk with you, too.”  
Roman closed his eyes and rolled over.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly, and that was enough for Remus.  
“G’night,” the duke wished his brother, closing the door, before settling down on the worn and rotting carpet outside to sleep, guarding his brother from whatever bullshit everyone was going to pull next.


End file.
